The Ties That Bind
by Holly Jolly
Summary: A sequel to The Price of Infamy - set three years later.
1. Chapter 1: New Lover, Old Regret

"The Ties That Bind"

by: Holly Graham

A sequel to "The Price of Infamy"

Author's Note:  The characters depicted within this story that belong to Thomas Harris are his property and are being used here for entertainment purposes only.  There is no money being made from this story and no copyright infringement is intended.  All other characters belong to the author.

Chapter 1:  New Lover, Old Regret

Hannibal Lecter stirred and rolled slowly over onto his side in bed.  His head ached slightly from too much wine the evening before and he rubbed his forefingers against his temples to alleviate the pressure for a moment while attempting to convince himself to go back to sleep.  But despite the fact that his fatigued body screamed for more rest, his brain refused to allow it.  It was Sunday and he needed to get up and check the newspapers as he did every week.

Dr. Lecter peered through one cracked eyelid at the digital alarm clock on the oak bedside table across the other side of the bed.  He had to lift his slightly balding, gray haired head to see the clock over the svelte form of his live-in lover and companion Aurora.  He saw that it was already mid morning; their late night meant a late start in the morning and he groaned slightly.

He opened both eyes and stretched slowly, arching his back lazily like a cat.  It was time to get up, the day was wasting.  Beside him, Aurora did not stir.  She was a heavy sleeper to begin with and Lecter knew that he had worn her out last night.  He smiled as he remembered their fevered, urgent lovemaking of the night before.  They had coupled again and again until finally, exhausted, they had both at last been sated.  

His eyes traced the outline of the curve of her hip as she slept on her side with her hands tucked under her pillow and her long white blonde hair spread above her head like a halo.  The white silk sheet that covered both their bodies came up just under her shoulders and he saw that one of her creamy breasts was partially exposed.  He debated for a moment on taking her rose colored nipple into his mouth and waking her up with his gentle but persistent sucking.

Aurora was unlike any woman Dr. Lecter had ever been physically intimate with in his life, not that he'd necessarily ever had the chance of maintaining an extensive social life though.  She was a great deal younger than he, 27, and currently enrolled at the _Universidad Complutense de Madrid_ to obtain her doctorate in psychology.  Dr. Lecter had discovered that being young and from a generally more liberated generation, Aurora was extremely sexually open-minded.  She often suggested things to him and introduced things to him that initially surprised him because of her forwardness then subsequently delighted him.  She often initiated their lovemaking herself and she was very responsive when he did.  

Dr. Lecter shook his head slightly.  No, he would not wake her up.  Although as he thought about her sexually and stared at her exposed breast, he felt his body responding.  But this morning he would let her sleep.  Last night they had attended the opera "Faust" at the beautiful _Teatro Real _in Madrid, Spain, a few miles from their home.  They had both drank too much wine and stayed up far too late but they both so enjoyed an evening of sinful pleasures; namely opera, wine, and sex.  

"Faust" had always amused Dr. Lecter.  The opera tells the story of an old doctor who sells his soul to the devil for the opportunity to become young again and win the heart of a fair maiden, Marguerite.  

Always upon viewing "Faust" Dr. Lecter's thoughts would turn to his own beloved, his Clarice.  It had been three years since he'd last seen her, depleted from the rigors of child birth but as always radiant.  Thinking she was asleep, he had crept into her room to view her new baby daughter, Serena, and to whisper a bittersweet farewell to them both before leaving the country.  She had surprised him by whispering 'goodbye' as he had stole for the door to leave.  He remembered turning back and seeing her smile tiredly at him.  She must have known that he would be unable to stay away from seeing her and her child and she had understood his need to do so.  Even better, that had seemed to be alright with her.

Now as he left the large mahogany sleigh bed that he shared with Aurora, Hannibal Lecter felt the all too familiar twinge of regret that he had learned to live with and bury over the last few years.  He had decided years ago to let Clarice live her life thinking she was truly happy with Will Graham.  Lecter crinkled his mouth in disgust at the thought of Clarice Starling and his former nemesis Will Graham married.  They had been married for almost four years now and Dr. Lecter wondered if she still believed herself happy with him or if she had finally learned the truth for herself; the truth that he himself had tried to show her when he had kidnapped Will years ago, torturing and crucifying him but ultimately failing to kill him, the truth that Will could never love her and take care of her like he could.  

He remembered faking his own death at Clarice's hand so that he could attempt to capture a life he had come to long for so much; a "normal" life with a wife and a child without worrying about the FBI breathing down his neck every time he turned around.  He had come to the conclusion that he could only accomplish that if they thought him dead.  Of course he had hoped against reason that one day Clarice would be the one to fill the role of wife but thus far it was not meant to be.  Dr. Lecter remembered making an appearance at Clarice and Will's wedding in attempts to stop it.  He had shown himself to Clarice and she had been overcome with emotion at the sight of him alive.  But alas, she had professed her love for Will and had asked Lecter to leave them alone.  Until now he had abided by her wishes and for now would continue to do so.  At least until she contacted him requesting him to rescue her.

Before he had left her birthing room the last time he had seen her, Dr. Lecter had instructed Clarice to contact him when she needed him by placing an ad in the agony columns of the _Times, _the _International Herald-Tribune, _and the _China__ Mail._  He had instructed her to address the ad to A. A. Aaron so that it would be first and to sign it as Hannah.  Every Sunday, Hannibal Lecter dutifully walked to the huge newsstand in Madrid to purchase these news papers.  He also, for the fun of it, usually picked up a copy of the _National Tattler _as well.  But thus far, there had been no pleas of help from Clarice.

Dr. Lecter padded naked into the bathroom and quietly closed the door.  He shook three ibuprofen tablets into his hand and swallowed them down with a sip of water.  Then he turned the cold water on in the sink and splashed his face with it, wincing as errant icy water struck his chest.  He toweled off and peered at himself in the large mirror.  His upper body remained strong through his devout workouts and he had managed to trim down his stomach as well.  He had stopped dying his hair and let his now natural gray come through.  He thought it made him look old.  Dr. Lecter smiled as he remembered Aurora's words to him as she had run her hands through it.

"It's sexy, babe," she had cooed in her beautiful Spanish accent.  "It makes you look distinguished."

And so he had left it.  He often caught himself wondering what Clarice would think of it now.  

Hannibal Lecter and Aurora Perpiñán González had met at the University four years ago during a lecture at the art school on the art of the French Revolution.  While that genre of art did not appeal to him per se, it had given him a much desired opportunity to visit the art school and ultimately the University as a whole.  

As he had sat only half listening to the lecturer, she had caught his eye as he had roamed over the crowd.  She sat on the opposite end that he did several rows ahead of him.  Her long white blonde hair had hung loose over her shoulders and down the back of her seat.  He had watched how it would swish with every slight movement of her head and he had found himself wishing he was sitting behind her so that he could smell her shampoo and perfume if she wore any.  He mused that if he had sat behind her he would be able to put his hands on his knees and feel the strands of her hair brush against them as it moved.  He had found himself entranced by the movement of her gorgeous hair.  Dr. Lecter had been so fascinated by the movement, color, and texture of it that he had not realized he'd been staring until she had turned around, met his gaze, and smiled.  Embarrassed at having been caught staring, he had nodded his head, and smiled back.  His eyes had swung back to the lecturer then but had flicked in her direction for the remainder of the speech.

Afterward as he had been strolling the halls of the art school, his hands clasped behind his back, taking in the full scene of it, she had approached him and begun walking with him.  He had found her easy to chat with and very intelligent.  They had started off conversing in Spanish but moved easily into Italian and finally English and Dr. Lecter had been pleasantly surprised at her knowledge and intellect.  They had lunched at one of the University cafes and had ended up spending the entire day together, walking the University and then finally the numerous fine museums that Madrid offered.  

Despite her age, he and Aurora shared many interests and tastes.  And Dr. Lecter had been delighted to learn that she was pursuing a doctorate in psychology.  They would talk for hours about the subject and she introduced him to many new lines of thinking within the field.  They loved each other's company and it was not long before they were seeing one another every night.  And it was not long after that before he was sharing her bed.

Naturally Dr. Lecter had been cautious and reserved at the beginning of their courtship.  He had not told her his real name or his real history.  But eighteen months ago, once their relationship had reached the point of commitment and they had discussed moving in together, he had confided in her his true identity.

Aurora at first had been shocked and taken aback by his confession and she had not wanted to believe him.  Being a psychology student she of course had heard of Hannibal Lecter from America but being as young as she was and having been born and raised in Spain, his crimes seemed to have a surreal quality to them and she decided that he was no longer that man, instead he was the man she had fallen in love with.

She was right in some respects, Hannibal Lecter had changed.  As he had grown older, his sociopathic tendencies had lessened.  In fact, he had not harmed or killed anyone in many years.  Quite a bit of his old self had come out when he had kidnapped Will and Joshua Graham and attempted to kill them, however, but that had been for revenge, not to satisfy an urge per se.  

Dr. Lecter shrugged, interrupting his reverie.  He pulled his silk robe off the hook on the back of the bathroom door and slipped easily into it.  He opened the door and walked quietly passed the bed where Aurora was still asleep.  He descended the stairs of their chateau and walked into the kitchen, intent on making some breakfast before making his way into Madrid to the newsstand.  He opened the refrigerator and pulled out some eggs.  

Thirty minutes later Dr. Lecter placed the last rolled sweet omlette onto a serving plate and placed the plate into the microwave to warm.  He turned to the sink and began to rinse the utensils, bowls, and pan he had dirtied.  As he rinsed a bowl under the steady stream of hot water he was suddenly aware that Aurora had entered the room, he could smell her coconut shampoo.  He did not turn around and listened as she walked up behind him.  

Aurora, being the same height as Dr. Lecter, put her arms around his neck and planted small suckling kisses on the back of his neck.  He continued washing the dishes under the hot water but his movements slowed as he closed his eyes and leaned his head back into her kisses.  Aurora ran her hands slowly down the front of his robe and undid the tie around his waist.

"Turn around," she whispered into his ear.

Dr. Lecter turned around obediently, not bothering to wipe his hot, wet hands off.  He glanced down and noticed that Aurora was wearing his tuxedo shirt from last night, it hung just below her buttocks.  The sight of her in his rumpled shirt caused the blood to pound in his veins and he gripped her tightly around the waist, crushing her to him.  They kissed, tongues entwined, and he ran his hands through her waist length hair.  She gasped with delight as his hands, still hot and damp from the water, ran underneath the shirt and over her body.  He lifted her up, turned her around, and set her on the counter as she slipped the robe off his shoulders.

"I love you Hannibal," Aurora whispered feverishly.

Two hours later, Hannibal Lecter returned home from his weekly trip to the newsstand with his usual four papers under his arm.  He walked past the study and saw Aurora perched on a stool in front of the computer screen, doing research online for part of her dissertation.  He smiled as he saw her reading glasses set slightly askew on her nose because of her uneven ears and a pencil between her teeth that she absently chewed as she read.  Dr. Lecter was suddenly overcome with feelings of love and he realized how much he cared for Aurora.  But he also knew that he could never love her the way he loved Clarice Starling.  She was the only woman who knowing full what he had done and what he was capable of had come to him unafraid and looked him in the eye and conversed pleasantly with him.  And she was the only woman who had ever matched him intellectually; even Aurora fell short of that at times.  But for now in his own way, he would continue to love and cherish Aurora.  He moved quietly into the living room and sat down in his leather recliner, one leg crossed over the other, settling in to read the papers.

After having perused the agony columns of the first three papers, he sighed and set them on the floor, nothing again this week from Clarice.  He opened the _National Tattler_ and skipped over the first few pages of articles that proclaimed a celebrity had been caught on a romantic trip with his married co-star.  On the fifth page, Lecter stopped suddenly.  The headline in 36 - font caught his eye, "Clarice Starling-Graham To Retire From FBI."

To be continued.  You know the drill:  I write, you review!


	2. Chapter 2: Meet the Grahams

Chapter 2:  Meet the Grahams

It had been an eventful day for Clarice Starling-Graham.  She and her department had captured and arrested the Net Slayer, another ridiculous nickname bestowed by the _National Tattler _to the man also known as Michael Breen.  Breen had raped and killed seven young women over the course of 18 months.  He had scouted out his victims in chat rooms online before the FBI's Investigative Support Unit headed by Clarice and formerly known as Behavioral Science had tracked him down.  Breen had gone into custody quietly with no incidence but Clarice was tired from months of emotionally exhausting long days and was ready to go home to her family.

_My family,_ she thought and smiled.

How much her life had changed over the last four years.  Before she had recruited Will Graham's help several years back in tracking down Hannibal Lecter, she had been something of a workaholic, staying at the office long after all the other agents had left, burning the midnight oil.  At the time she would have told anyone who asked that she did it because it was her duty, her job, and she did it to help silence the screaming lambs in her dreams.  But now when she reflected on it, Clarice realized that she had been a workaholic to help escape the vast loneliness that had permeated her life.  She'd had no one to go home to, only a cold, empty townhouse.  Subconsciously, she had long given up on the notion of a husband and children.  Ironically, the job that she had given up the notion for was exactly the mean that had brought her future husband into her life.

The more she and Will had worked together to find Dr. Lecter and to stop the "Guilty" murders, the more she had realized just how much they had in common with each other.  She had found in him a kindred spirit, a soul mate if you will.  They understood one another and eventually came to love one another.

Now in two weeks, Clarice would be retiring as Section Chief of the Investigative Support Unit.  She had served in the position for nearly four years and it was time to move on.  She had seen enough atrocities to last her several lifetimes.  For the immediate future she would take a long, well deserved break and spend time with her family.  After that, she was not sure.  She'd already been offered a teaching position at Quantico but she was unsure if teaching was for her.  And it was not as if she had to work.  

Because of the intense media coverage of the events four years ago, the public had become entranced with their story; two FBI agents who knew Dr. Hannibal Lecter better than anyone in the world joining forces to capture the monster, one having ended up tortured and nearly killed once more by Lecter, the other fatally shooting him, and ultimately the two falling in love and getting married, it had been a story that captivated the public's imagination.  Because of the public's fascination, she, Will, and Joshua had sold the rights to their story several years ago and because of that, neither Clarice nor Will would ever have to work again in their lives if they chose not to.  Their investments and stock options would be enough to live on.  Clarice supposed she could do what Will did: advising, consulting, and guest speaking at law enforcement agencies around the world.  But for now, she was just looking forward to spending time with Will and the kids.

At least three times a day, Clarice found her thoughts turning to the man that loomed over her life like a specter, the man that had once tormented her dreams, the man that had seen strength in her beyond her imagination, the man that had taught her so much about herself and the world at large, and the man who ultimately tried to take away the man she loved in attempts at forcing her to love _him_, Dr. Hannibal Lecter.

Four years ago, she had thought that she was finally free of his hold on her.  She had thought him dead, shot by her own hands.  But once more, he had escaped death as if he were more knowing and more powerful than God himself, if indeed there even was a God.  She had been heartbroken and relieved at the same time, hating herself for feeling relieved.  Her dilemma was this, while she hated Dr. Lecter for all the crimes he had ever committed, he had been in her life for so long and had nurtured her much like a father would that she did not know if she could live life without knowing he was out there somewhere, thinking of her and watching over her.  It was repulsive to think that way she knew, but she could not help it.

Will and Clarice kept no secrets from one another except one.  Clarice had never told Will of Dr. Lecter's visit to her and Serena in the hospital and the fact that he had given her a way of contacting him.  Will had been upset enough when she had told him on their honeymoon that Dr. Lecter was still alive; Clarice had never seen him that angry before or since.  She knew very well Will's feelings about Dr. Lecter and the insecurities he attempted to bury over her feelings for Lecter.  She had reassured Will many times that she loved only him but she knew that he continued to harbor uncertainties.  Clarice could sympathize, it was much the same way that she felt about Molly.  Clarice knew that Will did not love Molly anymore yet she could not help but feel anxious whenever Molly was around.  But all in all, Clarice and Will had a very good marriage, full of love and respect and trust.  They were very happy together.

There was a brief rap on her door that interrupted her thoughts as she was shutting down her computer and she glanced up.  One of her agents and very close friends, Seth Williams, entered.  Clarice observed that he had removed his tie and rolled the sleeves of his white dress shirt up.  He flashed his white smile at her as he entered her office, closing the door behind him.

"Hey Claire," Seth said.  

"Heya Seth, what are you still doing here?"  She asked.  "I know I ordered everyone to go home.  Are you disobeying orders now just because you're taking my place as Section Chief in a couple of weeks?"

Seth's grin broadened and he moved to sit in one of the chairs in front of her expansive desk, slouching low into it and putting his feet up on her desk.  "Oh come on boss, don't bust my balls the last few weeks you're here!"  

"Why should I stop now?" Clarice grinned at him and pushed his feet off her desk.  "Just because I'm leaving?"

Seth chuckled and nodded his head.  "Okay, okay," he said, "I give up.  Yes ma'am, I'm going home."  He paused and watched Clarice shove some files into her briefcase and close it up.  "What time are we supposed to come over tonight?"  He asked.

"Six," Clarice replied.  "And tell Delia not to forget the cheesecake."

Her long time friend Ardelia Mapp had married Seth Williams a year ago.  Clarice had introduced the two of them years ago when she and Seth had both been working under the tyrant former Section Chief, Kendra Mitchell.  

"Don't worry, she's been up since six this morning working on it," he grinned again, his teeth vibrantly white against his dark skin.

Clarice shrugged into her leather jacket.  "Good.  I love Del's cheesecakes."  She picked up her briefcase and made shooing gestures at Seth toward her office door.  "Be gone Seth.  I'm going home to kiss my husband and children."

Clarice Starling-Graham, hardened veteran of the FBI's former Behavioral Science division, had seen many strange and horrific things in her days but it all paled in comparison to daily life with two toddlers.  She walked through the door of the family's massive two-storied Victorian – style Bethesda, Maryland home and felt as if she had walked straight into a hurricane.  Clothes and toys were strewn about the living room, she heard the TV blaring "Barney" from the other room, sippy cups, crackers, and dirty socks lay discarded on the couch, jumbo crayons and paper lay scattered across the coffee table, and she heard three year old Serena singing at the top of her voice along with the TV show as she skipped through the house.

"Mommy!" Serena Clarice Graham called as she spied her mother and ran to envelope her in a three year old bear hug, her red ponytails flapping against her head.

"Hi pumpkin," Clarice smiled and kissed the top of Serena's head.  "What are you up to?"

"Nuttin," Serena said as she let go of her mother and just as quickly as she appeared, she was gone again, resuming her skipping and singing.

Clarice grinned wryly as she hung up her jacket in the entryway closet, kicked off her loafers, and dropped her briefcase on the floor of the closet before closing it.  She turned and made her way through the living room to the spacious kitchen.  She stopped in the doorway to watch one year old John William Graham, named for Clarice's father, sitting in his high chair eating spaghetti and Will Graham, in jean shorts and a white tank top, standing at the sink rinsing dishes before putting them in the dishwasher.

Clarice smiled as she stared at Will's backside and thought how she still loved to gaze at him.  His faded blonde, near-brown hair held the tiniest bit of gray at his temples but Clarice, her own long red hair gray-free, found it terribly distinguishing.  They had been married almost four years and they were still like newly-weds; he could still turn her on with just a look or a simple touch of his hand.   

Clarice's gaze moved to her son just in time to see him dump the remainder of his bowl of spaghetti over the top of his head, turning his short blonde baby-fuzz hair orange.  He laughed heartily and dropped the bowl to the floor with a hollow thud.  Clarice saw Will at the sink turn his head at the sound of the bowl hitting the floor.  He groaned and hung his head briefly and Clarice wondered where Cindy their nanny was.

"Oh John," he said quietly.  "You little stinker!  But I guess I should've known better than to give you spaghetti."

Clarice watched as Will picked up the bowl, put it in the sink, and set to the task of cleaning up the spilled spaghetti from the floor, the high chair, and the baby.  He glanced up and noticed her watching him amusedly.

"Hey you," he smiled and continued to wipe at the mess.  "You're home early.  Slacking off now that you're retiring huh?"

Clarice smiled, walked to where her two men were, planted a kiss on John's head, carefully avoiding the spaghetti, and squatted down next to Will.  She put her arms around his neck and kissed him deeply.  He put his arms around her as best he could given the fact that he was holding paper towels full of spaghetti on them.  

"Actually we caught the Net Slayer today," Clarice replied quietly.  "So I gave everyone the rest of the day off."

"Really?"  Will asked.  "Oh honey, that's great.  How'd you do it?"

"Actually I used your idea of running various screen names through VICAP."

"You're kidding me," Will said incredulously.  "That was such a long shot."

Clarice nodded.  "I know but one hit.  We came up with the name of this guy, Michael Breen, who had a prior for molesting a young girl a few years back.  We obtained a warrant to tap his computer and monitor his online activity.  And sure enough, it was him.  This morning the two agents I'd put in charge of monitoring him came in and said that we needed to pick this guy up and talk to him.  Apparently he'd been chatting with various young women online and had finally got one that agreed to meet him.  In addition, he cruised many hard core sex sites that show and promote rape scenes.  So I gave the go ahead and we went out to pick him up.  Turns out it was him.  He had videos of all his victims.  He was trying to sell them to some of those sites."

Will shook his head.  "Jesus," he whispered.  "What a fucking moron.  At least you got him.  I'm so proud of you Claire."  He hugged her tightly.

John sat in his chair and pounded the tray with his open hands watching as the food bounced every time he hit it.  Will stood up, removed the tray placing it on the table, unbuckled John and gingerly lifted him out.  He held the baby at arm's length out to Clarice.

"Welcome home, love," he grinned at her.  "You can clean up your son while I clean up the kitchen…..again."

Clarice took John, carefully holding him away from her pantsuit.  "So now he's _my_ son is he?"

"When he dumps spaghetti all over himself, yes, he's your son," Will chuckled.  

Clarice rolled her eyes at Will but smiled nonetheless.  She bounced John gently on her hip as they spoke.  "Where's Cindy?"

Will groaned.  "God, of all days for her to get sick, it's today.  I swear I've got piles of laundry that are strewn all over the living room thanks to Serena breezing through there after I'd gotten everything folded and threw most of it around while I was in John's room changing him.  I've got people coming over in a few hours for dinner and haven't pulled the steaks out to thaw yet.  I've got……" he trailed off when he saw Clarice's bemused grin.  "What?  Are you gonna tease me about the whole Mr. Mom thing because you know….."

Clarice put her hand on his shoulder gently, interrupting him.  "No, no, baby," she said softly.  "You know I would never do that.  I just think it's cute when you go off on a tangent like that."  

She knew what a touchy subject it was for him that he did not work full time and was often home with the children while she was at work.  He enjoyed being home with them but he received a lot of ribbing about it by people they knew.  Will leaned in to kiss her and John smeared spaghetti on the front of Will's shirt.  He glanced down at it and sighed softly.

"Now I get to change my shirt," he replied sardonically.  "The risks I take to kiss you!"

Clarice grinned and looked down at John.  "Alright munchkin, its bath time for you."

At the word 'bath,' Serena ran into the kitchen and jumped up and down in front of her mother.  "I want to take one too, Mom!  Please!  Please!"

Will scooped Serena into his arms and covered her face with kisses while she screamed with delight.  "Yes," he said to Clarice.  "Let's corral them both in the tub while we get to work on the house."

Clarice kissed Serena's nose and nodded.  

"Sounds good to me," she said.

Carrying John she followed Will and Serena back down the hallway toward the bathroom thinking that life did not get much better than this.

To be continued.  Please review.

Kurt:  LOL!  Great review!  As far as Clarice's married name, yes, it bugs Dr. Lecter immensely.  In the last chapter of POI, I make mention that he refuses to say her "loathsome married name."  Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Ducki:  Thank you so much for your review.  Yes, I had to give the GD a playmate!  It seemed only right.  

guber:  LOL!  Are you ever going to get your wish that Hannibal and Clarice end up together?  Come on, you learned from the last fic that I can't tell you!  It keeps you coming back for more!!  I'll try not to keep you waiting too long in between chapters but I'm tremendously busy right now so we'll see.  But thank you so very much for reading and reviewing.

devil:  Thank you so much, I'm glad you're enjoying the story so far.

Troesnaja:  Yes, I will continue with LoT writing "All the King's Horses (ATKH)."  I'm pulling a Kurt now, writing two stories at once!  AGH!  But it won't be too bad because I'm not writing the second one alone.  And you'll have to stay posted to see what mayhem I have in store for the characters this fic!!  Thanks so much for reading and reviewing.

Saavik:  LOL to your whole drill bit…..eh…..eh….get it?  Drill bit?!!  Oh that was horrid, I apologize!  Anyway, thank you so much for reading and reviewing.  Your reviews are always so nice.

Tilly:  **snicker, snicker**  Thank you, oh Partner In Crime for your great review.  Of course the GD could never love anyone like he loves Clarice.  Yes, Clarice is a bit burnt out and ready for family life.  A "reunion" huh?  We'll have to wait and see.  LOL!  That's right, you were one of the ones that wanted Will dead at the beginning of POI weren't you?!!  I'd forgotten that!  Thanks for reading and reviewing, pal-o-mine!

Shattered Mug, AKA POI Junkie, Faithful Reader, what other names did you have last fic?!  As always, thank you for your review, you are too kind.  Yes, we have a few new additions but all your favorites will be back this fic.  LOL to 'Graham baby!'  I hope this story keeps you as enthralled as the last one.  But please let me know if it sucks, okay?!  Thanks and see ya next chapter.


	3. Chapter 3: Childhood Lost

Author's Note:  Hello gang!  Just to let you know, this chapter is rated a strong "R" for language and violence.  You've been warned.

Chapter 3:  Childhood Lost

Zachary Matthews lay back on his bunk at the Walter P. Carter psychiatric hospital and closed his eyes but sleep refused to come.  He was restless tonight, eager to be back in the real world and out of this forsaken place.  They had kept him here longer than he had thought they would since the judge had ordered him here just over three years ago.  But now the ending was in sight, he could see the light at the end of the tunnel; he was being released in three days.

He sighed and rolled over onto his side with his arms tucked tightly against his chest.  He opened his eyes and looked out the barred window at the stars.  When he stared at the stars, he could delude himself into thinking that all was right with the world.  He attempted to shut out the chattering, calls for assistance, and occasional screams of the other patients.  Zachary resented being put in this place.  He knew he did not belong here.  No matter what the judge, the media, or his doctors said, he was not crazy.  Just because he had lived with Dr. Hannibal Lecter and become something of his protégé did not make him crazy.  The fact that Dr. Lecter had tutored him through the slayings of 11 convicted sex offenders did not make him crazy, hell, if anything, it had made him society's protector.  They should have given him a medal, not locked him away in a loony bin.

_Hannibal__,_ he thought gloomily.  

He would never see his mentor, his father figure, again.  The showdown between Dr. Lecter and Clarice Starling had taken place a couple of months before Zachary's murder trial.  

_He's dead, _Zachary's head wailed at him.  _I'll never see him again.  She took him away from me._

Indeed, _she_, who reminded him terribly of his own mother had incredibly shot and killed Dr. Hannibal Lecter, the man who had taught her so much, the man who had advanced her career in so many ways.  Clarice Starling was the last person Zachary ever thought could kill Dr. Lecter.  

_She ruined my life,_ he thought bitterly.  _She and that goddamn partner of hers.  Why couldn't they have just left us alone?  __Hannibal__ revered her but she's no better than a common whore.  First she betrayed him by killing him, then she betrayed him by marrying her fucking partner.  Christ, the damn bitch needs to learn some respect._

Zachary could feel himself becoming worked up, despite the medication he was on to control his brain's chemical imbalances, and took deep breaths, forcing himself to calm down.  He was being released in three days, now was not the time to cause problems.

For the last three years, Zachary, despite his anger at being put in the hospital to begin with, had been a model patient.  He had taken his meds when instructed, he had gone to counseling and group when told to, and he had caused no problems whatsoever.  He had originally thought that with his exemplary behavior he would be released from the in-patient hospital within a matter of months.  But that had not been the case.  His doctors here at the hospital had ended up diagnosing him as borderline schizophrenic and he had had to undergo a rigorous therapy and medication regimen.  Of course Zachary had known the doctors to be full of shit but he never said anything to that effect.

He remembered sitting through session after session with his main psychiatrist, Dr. Steven Collinsworth.  Zachary could still hear the man's voice…..

"Tell me about your mother……"

_Mother, _he thought now as he lay awake and dry eyed in his small lumpy bed and his heart broke at the thought of her.

How beautiful, how loving, how kind hearted and amazing Jasmine Matthews had been.  Thanks to Dr. Lecter, Zachary had learned about memory palaces and had eventually come to develop his, although certainly not to the extent that the Good Doctor had developed his own.  He closed his eyes now and delved into his memory palace.  He did not have to roam far to find her, his mother and Dr. Lecter were the only main items within his palace.

Zachary saw her as his child's mind remembered:  tall and graceful with her long red hair sweeping halfway down her back and her sparkling blue eyes shining when she laughed.  Although Zachary had to admit that he did not remember her ever laughing much.  Oh how he had loved her.  He had been the eldest of six children and she had called him her "little man" from his earliest memories, the one man she could truly rely on.  Yes he had loved her.  He had loved her to the point that his doctor had deemed he had an Oedipus complex, or a deep sexual desire for his mother, but Zachary consciously refused to believe that.  His mother had been his whole world, his shelter from his father's storms and his anchor in a turbulent world.  But he had always hated himself for having been powerless to help her, powerless to ultimately save her and himself.  

Now as he lay in his bed with his eyes squeezed tightly shut, Zachary Matthews remembered the day he lost his faith in mankind, lost his innocence, and lost his entire world; the day he lost his mother.

Middleburg, Loudoun County, Virginia, 1994

Ten year old Zachary Matthews was awakened by his father's roar coming closer as the man staggered up the hallway of the tiny clapboard house just outside the town of Middleburg in rural Loudoun County.  He was already drunk and it was barely seven am.

"Wake up you stupid shit!"  His father bellowed, banging his fist against the wall, making the picture frames that hung there jump and clatter.

Zachary threw the thin wool blanket off his thin, lanky frame and jumped out of bed, quickly rubbing the sleep from his blue eyes.  He hurriedly pulled on his dirty overalls from the day before, his hands trembling as he tried again and again to buckle the straps.

"Get out here and make my breakfast goddammit!"  His father shouted drunkenly.

Randy Matthews had reached the door to the cramped room that Zachary shared with four of his brothers and sisters and reached for the knob.  As he was about to turn it, the door swung open wide and Zachary beamed nervously at his father.

"Hi dad," he replied quietly.  "What would you like for breakfast?"

Randy teetered back and forth on unsteady legs in the doorway and glared at his oldest son.  

"What the fuck took you so fucking long ya dumb shit?"  He jeered.  "Dreaming your sweet faggot dreams in la-la land weren't you?"

"I'm sorry dad," Zachary said sheepishly, bowing his head.

Zachary walked carefully past his father toward the kitchen, bracing himself for a blow that thankfully never came, continuing to rub the sleep from his eyes as he went, and wondered where his mother was.  According to his father, it was his mother's job to prepare breakfast.  It was "woman's work."  

"Make me some pancakes boy," Randy grumbled as he lurched up the hall behind his son.

Zachary winced and turned around bravely to face his father.  "I'm sorry dad but I don't know how to make pancakes."

"What!?"  His father barked and Zachary flinched involuntarily at having incurred his father's drunken wrath.  "Goddamn fucking stupid bitch!"  He yelled and swung his fists over his head in the air as if striking out at an unseen foe.  "Fuck!  All I want is some goddamn pancakes!"

Zachary watched his father's tirade in silence, knowing it would play itself out soon, thankful that the man was striking at the air and not him.  Randy stopped as suddenly as he had started and regarded his son contemptuously.  

"Well do you know how to scramble eggs?  Or are you too pussy to do that too?"  Randy sneered, his lips pulled back around his mouth, showing his brown tobacco-stained teeth.

"Yes, dad," Zachary nodded dully.  "I can scramble eggs."

"And toast?"

"Okay, toast too."

Zachary turned back around and made his way into the kitchen, still wondering where his mother was.  It was early June, the last week of school before summer break, and already the northern Virginia heat was suffocating.  Even this morning, at seven am, the diminutive kitchen blazed with heat from the sun streaking in through the east window.  Zachary sighed and set about preparing breakfast as droplets of sweat began to form on his forehead.  He pulled out three eggs from the clanking refrigerator for his father, knowing that the man would pitch a fit if he used any eggs for breakfast for his siblings; cereal was good enough for the "goddamn kids."

Randy Matthews stumbled to the kitchen table, collapsed into a chair, and lit a cigarette.  It was not long before smoke permeated the tiny kitchen.  As Zachary went about the task of scrambling eggs and toasting bread, he waved his thin arm to clear the smoke from his face.  Inwardly he sighed.  His mother, Jasmine, had told his father that the doctor had told her not to be around cigarette smoke, that it was bad for the new baby she was carrying, baby number seven.  At first Randy had laughed cruelly and said the day he quit smoking in his own "fucking house" was the day he died.  When Jasmine had timidly pushed the subject further, she had received a hard backhand across her face and told to keep her "cunting mouth shut and mind her own fucking business."

"Hey boy," Randy croaked, rubbing his stubbly face and peering at Zachary through the smoke with bleary eyes.  "Get me a beer."

Zachary nodded and dutifully retrieved a can of generic beer from the battered refrigerator.  As he placed it on the table in front of his father and turned back around to head to the stove, the man slapped Zachary's buttocks and smiled lecherously.

"Thanks."  He paused.  "So I guess if you're gonna be doing the womanly chores around here, I can start referring to ya as a woman huh?"

Zachary ignored his father's comment and returned to the stove; God help him if he burned the eggs.  He heard his younger brothers and sisters beginning to wake and slowly but surely each one made their way into the kitchen at the smell of the cooking eggs.  Zachary methodically poured cereal into four bowls and dribbled a miniscule amount of milk over the cereal.  As he placed a bowl in front of each child, he saw the disappointment in their eyes at being given cereal again instead of eggs but even the second youngest child, a two year old, knew better than to voice an outrage while their father was present.  Each child had come to learn this fact the hard way, by being beaten when they dared show the slightest displeasure over something.

Zachary finished up preparing his father's plate and placed it in front of him.  He watched as the man eyed the food a bit apprehensively and Zachary held his breath.  But finally Randy tore into it and Zachary could breathe again.  He watched his father and siblings eat in silence for a moment then made his way slowly down the hall to his parent's room, intent on finding his mother.  

The dimness of the hallway after the brightness of the kitchen caused him to blink as he went until his eyes adjusted and the coolness stung the sweat that now covered his body.  He reached the door to their room and, finding it ajar, pushed it open.  He looked first to the crib in the corner of the room and saw the youngest of the Matthew children, one year old baby Sarah, still asleep.  He looked then to his parent's bed and in the darkness of the room he could barely make out his mother's thin form under the worn bedspread.  He walked slowly to her side of the bed and peered at her.

Jasmine Matthews had been a vision to behold in the prime of her life.  An athletically built young woman, heiress to a sugar plantation fortune, with fiery red wavy hair and shimmering blue eyes, she had been many a young man's midnight fantasy.  But it had been the dirt-poor, tall, lanky cowboy with black hair that had caught her eye as a sophomore in high school.  She had been 15 and he had been 20 and it did not take long for smooth talking Randy Matthews to convince Jasmine O'Connor to share his bed.  For her, the affair, her first, had been exciting in that it was strictly forbidden by her parents.  For him, it had been the chance to stick it – literally – to a rich bitch from a family that would rather spit on someone like him than look at him.  Neither of them had intended for their relationship to last for an extended period of time.

But when Jasmine had ended up pregnant two months later, Randy's father had forced him to 'do the right thing' and marry her and her family had completely disowned her.  Nine months later at the age of 16, Jasmine Matthews had given birth to a seven pound healthy baby boy and had never once heard anything from her family.  Her physical, mental, and sexual abuse at the hands of her own husband had begun not long after Zachary's birth and the once vibrant, spirited, independent young woman had over the long years become a hollow shell of herself.  Now, at age 26, Jasmine looked at least double her age, with deep lines threaded throughout her face and gray beginning in her hair.

But that did not stop her eldest child, Zachary, from falling helplessly head over heels in love with her.  He had always only seen her as beautiful and strong.  And she was the only person in the whole of the world that took time to talk to him and ask his opinions.  Zachary and his mother had shared a strong emotional bond from the beginning.  Except for his black hair, he looked just like his mother; the same well defined facial features that hinted to refined breeding.  Jasmine had relied on her son Zachary to be her distraction from the pain of losing her family and gaining an abusive, cruel husband.  As he grew older, and more children came into the family, she relied on him more and more, both for emotional, moral, and physically support.

The Matthew family was by no means well off.  Randy Matthews could not maintain a steady job because of his drinking problem and his attitude problem and Jasmine Matthews stayed home to care for the house and children, according to Randy "as a woman should."  Despite the meager finances, however, Jasmine always made sure to pocket a few coins here and there over the course of each month in order to treat Zachary to an ice cream cone every month at the family owned "Potters Ice Cream Parlor" in Middleburg.  These outings became a time that was looked forward to by both son and mother.  Zachary and his mother would sit on stools at the counter and he would order the same thing every time, a single scoop rocky road ice cream cone.  He would eat the treat and listen to his mother talk as he swung his feet lackadaisically from the stool.  His mother, who never had enough money to buy herself an ice cream, would tell Zachary about her childhood; about the ponies and the tennis lessons and the piano lessons and her dolls and dresses, with a reminiscent far-off look on her face.  Totally absorbed in the look and smell of his mother, Zachary would sit contentedly and watch her talk as he licked his ice cream.

Now as he approached her side of the bed, she stirred and opened her eyes.  Zachary sat down on the edge of the bed next to her and she smiled tiredly.  

"Hey my little man," she whispered and reached her hand out to take one of his.

"Mom are you ok?"  He asked tentatively.

She nodded slightly.  "I will be Zach.  I just need to stay in bed for a day or so."

"How come?"

"Cause I lost the baby," she said quietly.

Zachary did not quite understand what that meant but he knew it was not good and he did not want to press her about something that might hurt her.  He smiled at her and squeezed her hand.  

"Don't worry about anything, okay Mom?"  He whispered and began to stroke the hair back from her forehead.  "I'll take care of everyone while you need to be in bed."

Jasmine smiled sadly.  "You're the only man I've ever been able to count on Zachary.  What would I ever do without you?"

He shrugged, embarrassed.  "It's okay Mom.  I love you.  Is there anything I can get you or do for you?"

"No.  I just need to sleep some more."  Jasmine closed her eyes.

Zachary kissed her softly on the forehead and quietly made his way out of his parents' room.  It was time to get his brother and sisters ready for school.  After Zachary, the next oldest child was eight year old Rachel, then seven year old Julie, five year old David, two year old Steven, and one year old Sarah.  Zachary knew he would be missing school to take care of Steven and Sarah until their mother was well enough but since it was the last week of school before summer break, it was not like he would be missing much anyway.

He walked into the kitchen and saw that only Steven was still eating, the others had already finished.  He could hear them in the room they all shared together getting their clothes on and Zachary smiled.  So far they had been excellently behaved.  He was certain they sensed something amiss with their mother still being in bed.  

Once he'd gotten the older children off to school and sent Steven outside to play, Zachary set about cleaning up the breakfast dishes.  His father staggered into the kitchen and pulled another beer out of the fridge.  He eyed his son washing the dishes.

"Hey Dad," Zachary asked innocently.  "You going to work today?"

Randy Matthew's left hand flashed out and slapped Zachary's face.  His head rocked back and the glass he had been washing slipped out of his hand and shattered on the floor.  

"Mind your fucking goddamn business, faggot!"  He roared into Zachary's face.  "I'll fucking go to work when I fucking feel like it!"

Zachary cringed.  His father pushed him down by the back of his head toward the floor.

"See what you did, you little shit?"  Randy screamed, his face turning red.  "You broke a glass.  Goddammit!  Clean that shit up!  Now!"

Tears had begun to streak down Zachary's face, blurring his vision.  His father pushed him down so hard that Zachary put his hands out to brace his fall, and they landed flat on the broken glass, slicing them badly.  He cried out which only enraged his father further.  Randy reached down, grabbed Zachary by the back of his overalls, and pulled him up so their faces nearly touched.

"Shut the fuck up you bitch!"  Randy hissed and Zachary could smell his stale, reeking breath.  "You're so goddamn useless.  You can't do anything right."  He shook Zachary like a rag doll and Zachary struggled to stop crying.  "You fucking faggot," Randy said and dropped Zachary to the floor, directly on the glass.  "You're such a whiney, sniveling little girl.  Be a man, dammit!  Suck it up!  God you make me sick!"

Randy stormed out of the kitchen, continuing to mutter profanities.  Zachary sat up, wiping his face as best he could but the cuts on his hands left trails of blood across his cheeks.  He gingerly moved his legs to examine the damage done by the glass.  The cuts there were luckily smaller, the glass having been slowed by the denim of his overalls.  He sniffled and stood up on wobbly legs.  He turned the cold water on in the sink and stuck his hands under the streaming water, wincing as it stung.  Salty tears continued to roll down his face.

Zachary flinched as he felt an arm around his shoulders before realizing it was only his mother.  Silently she took his shaking hands, making sure they were thoroughly cleaned out and shard free.  Zachary put on a brave face, attempting to be strong for her.  He hated to let her see him cry.  He was supposed to be there when she needed him, not the other way around.  

Jasmine pulled a dish towel out of a side drawer and wrapped it around his hands.  She held him tightly to her, stroking his hair softly.  He laid his head against her swell of her breasts, willing the hitching sobs to stop.  She kissed the top of his head gently.

"I'm so sorry, Zachary," she whispered.  "I'm so, so sorry."

"It's not your fault Mom," Zachary replied and lifted his head just in time to see his father enter the kitchen carrying a baseball bat.

"Well, well," Randy sneered.  "If you're well enough to get outta bed to tend your faggot son, then you're well enough to clean this fucking pigsty."  He shook the bat at the two of them.  "Get to work bitches."

Through his pain, Zachary felt rage beginning to build within him.  He was suddenly furious with his father's treatment of his mother.  He was certain it was Randy's fault that Jasmine had "lost the baby" and the way he degraded her had to stop.  He wiped the remaining few tears from his face, smearing the streaks of blood there, and took a step forward.

"She needs to be in bed, Dad," he said quietly but firmly.

Randy looked incredulously at his son.  "What the hell did you just say?"

Zachary flinched slightly but refused to back down.  "She needs to be in bed," he repeated.

Randy took a step toward Zachary, the bat upraised.  "Who the fuck do you think you are you prick?"

Jasmine stepped in between her husband and her son and put a gentle hand on Randy's arm.  "Randy, please," she replied quietly.  "I'm fine.  Let me get dressed and I'll get to work."

Randy glared at his wife with bloodshot, weary eyes and shoved her away from him.  "Don't you touch me, cunt."

"Leave her alone," Zachary called defiantly and took a step forward.

That is when Randy Matthews swung the bat.  Even now, Zachary saw it all in seemingly slow motion.  He watched his father swing the bat with all his strength, watched his mother step in front of him to protect him, her arms outstretched to ward off the blow, watched as the bat connected squarely with the left side of her face, watched as blood and teeth sprayed from her mouth in a fine mist, and watched as her head rocked backward while her body sank to the floor.  

Zachary screamed and covered his hands with his face.  He ran to the corner of the room and cowered there, afraid of his father and ashamed of his fear at the same time.  His anger only fueled instead of abated, Randy brought the bat down upon his wife's body again and again as Zachary recoiled in the corner, whimpering like an injured puppy.  He was powerless to do anything, powerless to stop his father or help his mother.  He watched, tears streaming down his face, as his father pummeled his mother again and again with the bat although she lay perfectly still until finally, his energy spent, Randy abruptly turned and, clutching the bat, stumbled through the kitchen to the small living room, and out the front door.

To be continued.  Please review.

Guber:  LOL to your suggested movie title!  "In the Claws of a Cannibal"!!  Haha, that's great!  Thank you for reading and reviewing.  And as usual, I'm saying a word about future chapters!

Ducki:  Thank you for your review, I appreciate it.  Yes, things have quieted down a bit for Clarice, Will, and the GD.  I think it's time to shake things up, don't you?

Shifter:  Thank you for your 2 reviews and I'm glad you think this doesn't suck.  Showers are kind of difficult to give to a 3 year old and a 1 year old, baths are much easier!  Anyway, thanks for reading and reviewing.  And yes, I would definitely think you could call Aurora the GD's girlfriend.

Troesnaja:  Well, you'll just have to wait and see what's in store!  Thank you for reading and reviewing.

Clariz:  Thank you so much for your kind words.  Yes, it is different seeing Clarice married with children!  I'm happy you think I'm pulling it off.  Thanks.

DevilsQT:  LOL to your review.  There will be some torture in this story but I will not say of whom.  Just remember, I'm an equal opportunity torturer!  LOL!  I'm glad you are continuing to read this despite the lack of H/C moosh.  And thank you for reviewing.

Kurt:  Hmmm, me rent things asunder?  Naw, not me!!  LOL!  Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Morbid:  As always, I love your reviews!  They make me laugh!  Although I didn't quite understand the whole my mom's a drill sergeant thing but that's okay!  LOL, yes, we'll see Josh and your character Michelle soon, just for you!  Thanks for your kind words and thanks for reviewing.

Tilly:  I know, I know, it's disgusting isn't it?  The whole happy family thing?  Ah ugh, the Wiggles?  God no!  I can tolerate Barney at least slightly more than I can tolerate the Wiggles!!  LOL!  Hey thanks for reading and reviewing.

Saavik:  LOL!  You are the only person who picked up on (or at least who commented on) the whole Mr. Mom thing and I thought that was one of the funniest bits of the chapter!  Ah well!  Thanks for your review, I loved it.

Shattered Mug:  Aw, thank you for saying this story doesn't suck.  I don't know, I was in a funk that day I posted chapter 2.  I know the storyline of this story and I know it's not going to be as good as the first story (in my opinion) and I was having doubts if I should continue or not.  But fear not, I will not quit!  This story will be finished one way or the other!  Thank you as always for reading and reviewing.  And yes, enjoy the silence before the storm, for it is coming!


	4. Chapter 4: Nightmares

Chapter 4:  Nightmares

Zachary Matthews awoke with a start, trembling.  The cool air of his room chilled his sweat-drenched body and he gasped.  At some point during his reminiscing of childhood, he had fallen asleep and his memory had continued as a dream.  Or rather, as a nightmare; a nightmare he had re-lived almost nightly for the last eighteen months.  He wasn't sure how long he had been asleep but the stiffness in his neck told him it had been for several hours at least.  

Zachary swallowed hard and his throat was parched, aching.  He groaned slightly and reached for the plastic cup on the miniscule plastic table next to his bed.  He took two gulps of the water to ease his burning throat and lay back down on his bed, still trembling from the combined effects of the chilly room and his memories.  It did not matter how often he remembered the day his father had murdered his mother right in front of him, each time he did he was shaken to his very core.

_Damn them, _he thought bitterly, thinking of his doctors.  _Damn them to hell._

All of the memories that Zachary had worked so hard to suppress since he was ten years old had gradually been pulled forcibly from his psyche by Dr. Collinsworth, the staff, and the medications they insisted that Zachary ingest.  

By the time he had turned eleven his child's mind had convinced himself that his mother had not been killed but that she had left to begin a better life away from his father and that she would one day return for him.  Even now, despite the fact that he had been forced to accept the truth of her disappearance from his life, he still had trouble discerning fantasy from reality with regards to his mother.  Over the years, Zachary had developed a very elaborate fantasy where his mother came to rescue him from his father and together they lived happily ever after.  Zachary would escape into this fantasy world whenever his mind needed a break from his own reality which shortly after his mother's death became quite often.  

Zachary's father had never been arrested for the murder of Jasmine Matthews because Zachary, being an intelligent boy for his age, knew that he and his siblings would be split up if their father went to prison.  Zachary knew his mother would want the family to stay together at all costs and he had told the police that a stranger had broken in and attacked his mother.  Randy Matthews had been a suspect but there had not been enough evidence to arrest him and with Zachary being the only witness, they accepted his word and eventually, family life resumed some sense of normalcy.  

Through hypnosis, Zachary's deepest darkest secrets had been revealed and had confirmed Dr. Collinsworth's suspicions.  After the death of his mother, Zachary had taken on the bulk of her chores in addition to his school work and eventually that came to include sexually satisfying his father.  The sexual abuse caused a deep-seated anger for his mother to foster, an unacknowledged deep-seated anger.  He hated her.  He hated her for leaving him.  He hated her for leaving him to his father.  He loved her but he hated her.  The seed of hatred for his mother had grown and festered for years.  He had hated her until Dr. Hannibal Lecter had taken him in and turned his life around.

But now everything had changed for the worse again.  The only man he had ever cared for, the only man he had actually thought of as a father had been taken away from him, taken away from him as his mother had been.  His mother.  His mother had left him to the unthinkable desires of his father.  

_Damn her,_ he thought bitterly as tears rolled down his cheeks.

Dr. Lecter had been taken away by a woman who unfathomably reminded him of his own mother; that same flaming red hair, same independent spirit, same haunted look to the eyes.  Zachary rolled over onto his side and curled into the fetal position.  He sighed audibly and listened to the rain falling outside.  The pitter-patter rhythm lulled him and he began to sink toward sleep again.  Before he sank into unconsciousness, the image of Clarice Starling as he had last seen her sprang into his mind and his mind confused the image with that of his mother's.

_Mom, _he thought acidly, _first you left me to pursue a better life.  You left me to that despicable man.  Then when I was finally actually happy, you came back and you took the source of my happiness away.  You killed him you bitch.  How could you?  I hate you, mom.  I fucking hate you._

Just as Zachary Matthews was being abated by the sound of the rain, Joshua Graham jerked awake and sat straight up in bed, sweat slicking his entire body.  He was afraid that the scream he had emitted in his dream had escaped his lips during sleep as well but a glance at Michelle lying at his side and still breathing heavily assured him that he had not.

Shivering in the chill of the early morning, Josh ran a trembling hand through his dark hair and then across his face to remove the sweat.  He was breathing hard and felt almost as though his heart might explode.  He could hear the rain pounding against the roof but unlike Zachary, the sound did not comfort him.  It reminded him of Oregon.  It reminded him of the night he had never made it home to his grandparent's house from basketball practice, the night Dr. Hannibal Lecter had taken him.

Josh looked at the clock – 4:45am – and he knew there would be no more sleep for him that morning as with so many  other mornings.  He sighed shakily and gently got out of bed, careful not to disturb Michelle.  Josh pulled on his boxer shorts and a pair of sweat pants.  He tip-toed out of the bedroom, pulling the door closed quietly behind him.  

He plodded heavily into the kitchen and flipped on the coffee maker, listening as the soothing gurgle and hiss of the machine began almost instantly.  From the kitchen it was a mere few strides to the bathroom.  The apartment Josh shared with Michelle was on the smallish side but it was cozy; it was home.

Because he had only been 17 at the time, his share of the fortune from the Hollywood book/movie deal had been put away in a savings account under his father's name, untouchable until he graduated from college.  The deal had been that Will would pay Joshua's way through college while the money accrued interest then the account would be transferred into Joshua's name the summer after he graduated to do with as he wanted.  Will's thinking had been that Josh needed to learn to live on his own before being given the huge sum of money; he didn't want Josh to blow it all on inconsequential material things, he needed to learn to be responsible on his own first.  

Joshua Graham had just begun his fourth and final year of college and had finally made up his mind what he wanted to "be" when he was finished.  He had decided he wanted to go to law school and be an attorney.  He didn't want to chase the bad guys as his father had but he would help put them away.  His mother, Molly, had been pestering him for six months to make up his mind about going to graduate school or not and he finally had.  He had called her the night before to tell her and she had wept with joy.  He had realized then how fearful she had been that he might choose to follow in his father's footsteps.  But Josh could not do that.  Not after the incident with Dolarhyde and especially not after the incident with Lecter nearly five years ago.  He decided he did not have the strength his father had; he could not enter the mind of a madman and still retain his own sanity.

He splashed water on his face from the bathroom sink and gazed at himself in the mirror.  Josh had his mother's dark hair and eyes but he always saw his father's face when he looked at himself and he smiled now.  Drops of water rolled from his chin to his chest and down his flat stomach and he winced slightly at the chill.  He admired his toned arms and abs for a moment, flexing, before shaking his head and laughing slightly at his vanity and exiting the bathroom.  

Back in the kitchen, Josh rummaged through the dryer until he found a tee-shirt and he pulled it on, savoring the warmth against his skin. He poured himself a cup of coffee and beseeched his mind to not analyze the dream that had torn him from sleep.  But it did no good, his mind ran back over the dream.  It always started the same; he awoke in the cell he had been kept in by Lecter in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane when the man had kidnapped him and his father.  He always looked up and saw his father sitting in the crude wooden chair in front of the cell.  Josh always watched in horror as Lecter brought the hatchet down upon his father's left hand, severing his pinky finger.  He always screamed at that same moment.  But this time, the ending had changed; instead of Dr. Lecter turning his head in Josh's direction after cutting off his father's finger, the head that had swiveled around and smiled cruelly at him while he stood over Will had been that of Zachary Matthews.  This time the terror that permeated Joshua had overflowed and he had screamed in his dream as he never had before and awakened.

Joshua sighed as he carried his steaming mug into the small living room and sank down into his recliner, lifting up the foot rest.  The light from the street lamp outside let just enough light into the apartment that Josh did not need to turn on any lights inside.  He sipped his coffee slowly then leaned his head back against the recliner, listening to the rain.  He knew why he had seen the face of Zachary, a young man he had never met but knew a lot about.  Joshua had transferred from Georgetown University to Johns Hopkins University a year ago to finish his undergraduate work.  He knew that Zachary Matthews, Hannibal Lecter's protégé, had been in his final year at John's Hopkins and accepted into their psychology graduate school when Clarice and his father had arrested him.  Being a psychology major himself, Joshua had heard plenty about Zachary.  In fact, one of his professors even now continued to proclaim Zachary's innocence and had even invited the young man to lecture the class upon his release from the mental hospital this week.  

Joshua sighed again as he thought that, much to his chagrin, Zachary Matthews had agreed and would be speaking to the class next Monday morning.  Next week Joshua would come face to face with the protégé of the man that had attempted to kill him and his father.  

Will Graham jerked awake and gasped.  He lay staring at the dark ceiling for a moment, wide eyed and breathing hard, feeling his heartbeat gallop.  Sweat droplets beaded his forehead despite the coolness of the room and he swiped them away.  Once his breathing and heart rate were back under control, he looked at the alarm clock – 5:00am.  He frowned slightly.  The room seemed darker than usual at five am and then he heard why; there was a rain storm raging outside.  

Will closed his eyes briefly and inhaled deeply.  He turned to look at Clarice sleeping next to him.  He listened to her deep breathing as he watched her eyes twitch in deep sleep.  He was glad that he had not awakened her.  

_God, she's so beautiful, _Will thought and smiled.  _I love you Clarice._

Then his thoughts turned to his dream and he frowned slightly.  It was not unusual for him to re-live his torture and crucifixion at the hands of Dr. Hannibal Lecter in his dreams but tonight the victim of the cruelty had been Clarice.  Will did not understand his dream and it troubled him deeply.  He knew that Dr. Lecter cared deeply for Clarice and would not intentionally hurt or harm her.  

_Or would he?  _Will thought.

He stared at the ceiling again as if it held the answers he was seeking.  He listened to Clarice's breathing and the rain pounding on the roof.  His mind worked and mulled over the possible reasons behind his frightening dream.  In his dream he had watched as Dr. Lecter had nailed Clarice to the cross and he had listened to her piercing, agonizing screams but there had been nothing he could do to help her.  Then he had awakened with a start.  What did it mean?

Will closed his eyes and shook his head.  He was reading too much into it.  The dream meant nothing, it was merely a fantasy created by his unconscious mind.  But it was a dream he hoped his mind would never repeat.

He gently got out of bed, careful not to disturb Clarice, and padded slowly out of their room and down the hall to Serena's room.  The material of his pajama bottoms whispered together as he walked.  He peered into the open door of his daughter's bedroom and glanced around the Disney Princess – decorated pink and white room and smiled.  Serena was definitely 'Daddy's Girl.'  Will had spent a few days last month redecorating her room to her request.  She was almost four and already she loved the Disney Princesses, with Sleeping Beauty being her favorite.  He remembered taking her to the paint store so she could pick out the right shade of pink.  He remembered pouring over Disney Store catalogs as she picked out her curtains, bedspread, sheets, and pictures of the Princesses.  And he remembered Clarice's bemused grin every evening as she observed the two of them submerged in their redecorating project.

Clarice had and always did tolerate Will's indulgence of their daughter.  After all, she too had been a 'Daddy's Girl' and so she better understood their relationship.  Will smiled now as he walked into Serena's room.  She had kicked the blankets off of her sometime during the night, as usual.  He gently covered her up and slipped her current stuffed animal of choice, a soft cuddly white rabbit, under her arm again.  He lightly kissed her forehead and she stirred slightly, clutching the rabbit as she rolled over onto her side.  Will crept from her room quietly.

He crossed the hallway to John's room and walked quietly up to the baby's crib.  Will grinned when he saw his son's sleeping position – on his stomach with his bottom sticking up in the air.  Will tucked the blanket around John, bent down into the crib, and planted a kiss on his baby – fuzzed head.  He watched the boy for a moment, sucking at an invisible pacifier since the real one had fallen out of his mouth.  Will picked it up and gently put it back into John's mouth and listened as the baby sucked contentedly.  He smiled and walked quietly from the room.

Will walked down stairs and into the kitchen, grimacing at the cold linoleum floor as he stepped on it.  He pulled open the refrigerator and peered inside.  Nothing caught his fancy and he closed it again.  He turned and glanced around the spacious kitchen from the pots and pans hanging suspended on racks from the ceiling to the stainless steel sink to the state of the art oven.  He saw the dishes from their dinner with Seth and Ardelia piled in the sink and decided he should start in on them.

As he was about to head toward the sink, movement in the living room caught his eye and he watched his beautiful wife enter the kitchen, her black silk robe tied loosely around her waist and her long red hair swaying lightly behind her.  

"Hey handsome," Clarice cooed.  "What are you doing up this early?"

Clarice walked to where he leaned against the fridge and put her arms around his neck.  He shrugged.

"I couldn't sleep," he replied and bent down to kiss her sweet lips.  "What are you doing awake?"

"I rolled over and there was a big empty space where my husband usually sleeps," she grinned.  "I missed you."

Clarice pulled Will's face down to meet hers and they kissed deeply, tongues intertwined.  As they pulled away she smiled mischievously.

"Come back to bed Agent Graham and I'll make it worth your while."  Clarice grinned at the often used line.

Will chuckled as he recalled the first time she had ever uttered those words to him.  They had been in a hotel room after the first night they'd ever spent together and he had left the bed to turn on the heater and begin getting ready for work.  Since that first time the saying had become a familiar well used line.  

"Whatever you say, Agent Starling," Will smiled back playfully.

It was a game they often played, referring to each other as 'Agent' and Will using Clarice's maiden name.  Clarice grinned and took his hand, pulling him willingly out of the kitchen and back up the stairs.

To be continued.  Please review!

Ducki:  Thanks for reading and reviewing, I appreciate your continued support.

Mel:  Heya pal!  It's been awhile!  I'm glad I made your day with this sequel.  And I'm glad you're enjoying it.  Thank you so much for reading and reviewing.  Pop back in with a review to say hi anytime!

Guber:  Thank you for your review.  Yes, Zachary's dad is a bit gruesome isn't he?  Well he certainly deserved to be strung up although he wasn't.  I know you miss the GD and we'll re-visit him soon, I promise!  See you next chapter.

Shifter:  Thanks for your continued support.  I really do appreciate your kind words as I work very hard on every chapter I write to make it believable and real for the reader.  Thank you so much for your review.

Kurt:  Yes, if only Zachary knew the truth about the GD eh?  Thanks as always for your review, I love reading them.

Shattered Mug:  Hey faithful reviewer!  Me write an emotional roller coaster?  *Gasps*  Never!!  LOL, well you pegged me!  And yes, we will find out what happened to Zachary's dad Randy later in the story but that's all I'll say!  Thank you so much for your always great reviews.

Tilly:  LOL!  Crystal ball huh?  Very cool.  We'll see what's in store but I promise it will be interesting.  Thanks for reading and reviewing.

Devil's QT:  Yes I'm sorry for the length in updating but between school and my kids, I've been run ragged recently.  Plus the bought of writer's block didn't help matters.  Thank you though for being patient and continuing to read and review.  

Clariz:  Thanks so much for your kind words, I really do appreciate them.  I'm glad you're enjoying the story.


	5. Chapter 5: Cross Roads

Chapter 5:  Cross Roads

Dr. Hannibal Lecter had reached a cross roads of sorts.  He had to make a decision and while he had never been prone to indecision, he was now.  Two very important individuals in his life would be going through major life changes in the next few days in the United States and he was being drawn to return there.  Clarice Starling was retiring from the FBI in a few days and tomorrow, Zachary Matthews, the boy he had taken in and tried to pass on his formidable knowledge to, was being released from the psychiatric hospital he had been ordered to nearly four years ago.

Dr. Lecter sighed.  He was torn.  He desperately desired to return to the States, to gather his two loved ones close to him and then flee again.  His deep desire for life with a wife and children would finally be realized with Clarice and Zachary by his side.  But there was his life here; the life he had built with Aurora.  For the most part he was happy and content here with her; they fit well together.  And there was also the possibility that neither Clarice nor Zachary would want anything to do with him anymore.  He had no idea how Zachary felt about him now nor if Clarice still believed that she were truly happy with Will Graham.

He glanced at his watch.  It was late, nearly two in the morning.  Dr. Lecter had slept little in the last week since reading of Clarice's upcoming retirement.  Aurora could tell something was troubling him and she had asked him only once what it was.  He had refused to tell her and she knew better than to ask him again.  He had told her that he would work it out and anything that she needed to know he would tell her.  To most people this treatment would seem harsh but Aurora took it all in stride.  Because of her independent spirit, it did not bruise her ego and that was one of the things Dr. Lecter loved most about her; she let him be himself and gave him room to breathe.

Dr. Lecter leaned down lower in his leather recliner, the foot rest raised and his head resting against the back, and reflected once more on his feelings for Aurora.  He cared deeply for her.  They shared common interests and he taught her how to cook while she taught him the latest theories in psychology.  They had grown comfortable with one another although not to the point of boredom.  They recognized one another's body language and moods and knew each other's pet peeves.  He knew she deeply loved him and loved him unconditionally.  She gave herself wholly to him and held nothing back.  He wished he could say the same.

He sighed again and rubbed his hand over the stubble already begun on his chin.  He closed his eyes and pictured Aurora in her white chiffon robe with her white-blonde hair spilling over her shoulders and down her back.  He smiled to himself.  He loved her, yes.  But he did not love her the way she loved him, he never could.  At least not while he was bound spiritually to another; to Clarice Starling, the only woman he could ever truly belong to.

Deep in his reverie, Dr. Lecter did not hear Aurora approach him.  Her movements were quiet as a cat's and it was only her scent that gave her away.  With his eyes closed, Dr. Lecter breathed in deeply the sweet scent of her and smiled.  Aurora sat gently on the arm rest of the recliner and put her arms around his neck, kissing his cheek gently.  Her silk pajamas brushed against his arm.  She rubbed her smooth, cool cheek against his stubbly one, enjoying the rough feel of it.

"Come back to bed my love," she whispered softly in Spanish as she nuzzled him.

His hand tenderly stroked her long leg and he opened his eyes, smiling at her.  "It is late, Aurora.  Did my absence awaken you?"

"No," she said and Dr. Lecter saw a brief look of apprehension cross her face.

He raised one eyebrow.  Normally Aurora was such a sound sleeper that it was difficult to awaken her.  He wondered what could be troubling her.  He put his hand under her chin and raised her face to his.

"What is it then?"  He asked gently.

Aurora sighed.  "It is nothing," she paused and seemed to reconsider but then she shook her head.  "Nothing."

He knew better.  "Aurora," Dr. Lecter's voice contained a hint of sternness.  "What is it?"

She stood up from the recliner abruptly and strode to gaze out the window at the beautiful, clear, star-filled sky.  He watched her silently and waited.  

"I'm pregnant," Aurora whispered so softly that he almost did not hear her and she continued to stare at the sky, not looking at him.

Dr. Lecter sat up in his chair and lowered the foot rest.  He had to admit that he was nearly shocked.  He did not allow surprises in his life and he wondered just how he had let this development slip past his notice.  But of course he knew how; his preoccupation with Clarice and Zachary over the last week had been so intense that he had noticed little of anything around him which was again so unlike him.  He shook his head and wondered what was wrong with him.  His gaze fell upon Aurora now at the window and he realized that he could indeed make out the subtleties of her early pregnancy; the fuller breasts, the ever so slight widening of her hips, and she was even more beautiful now that she carried his child.

Fearful of his silence, Aurora turned around suddenly and met his gaze.  He saw fire in her eyes; a passion he loved about her.  "I have decided to have this baby whether you want to be a part of her life or not," she paused and choked back sudden tears.  "I do not expect anything from you.  I will do this myself."  She stood before him defiantly and independent.

Dr. Lecter grinned slightly and tilted his head as he regarded her.  They had never really discussed the matter of children or marriage they had always lived simply day to day enjoying life.  He realized now that she assumed he would not want and did not want children.  He recalled her last line to him about doing it herself.  He stood and went to her, never breaking eye contact.

"You most certainly will not do this yourself," he whispered.  "I love you and while this is unplanned that does not mean it is unwanted.  We will undertake this adventure together."

Visibly surprised, Aurora could do nothing but stare at him for a moment.  At last, seeing he was truthful and meant every word, she smiled and threw her arms around his neck, hugging him close.

"Oh I love you so much Hannibal," Aurora laughed.  "I'm so happy."

"I love you too."

Dr. Lecter was no longer torn; the decision had been made for him.  Zachary would have to make his own way in the world and despite his feelings for Clarice, Dr. Lecter decided he would work to forget her and let her go.  He would live happily with Aurora and their child.  He softly kissed her head and felt content for the first time in a week.  But he did decide to let Clarice know he was thinking of her.

Author's Note:  I know this chapter has been along time coming and I apologize for the length of time in between updates and the shortness of this chapter.  My muse for this story seems to have taken a flight of fancy and I sincerely hope she returns soon!  I hope you'll stay with me dear readers!


	6. Chapter 6: Love and Peace

Author's Note:  Oh goodness, faithful readers can you believe it??  I'm actually posting a new chapter to this story.  I know you'd all thought I'd abandoned this one but I haven't.  I've just been so busy with school and the kids and I had that accursed writer's block.  But once I got back on track, this chapter just flowed so I'm hoping the writer's block is gone!  At least for now.

Okay, since it's been ages since I last updated, I'm going to get you all up to speed on what's going on.  Here goes:  Dr. Lecter is currently living in Spain with a fiery Spanish tart named Aurora who has just turned up pregnant.  Clarice and Will are living a happy married life with two kids in the suburbs of Bethesda, Maryland and Clarice is retiring as section chief of the formerly named Behavioral Science division.  Oh yes, Zachary Matthews we have come to find out is going to be released from his mental hospital and we learned that his psychotic tendencies and why the Good Doctor chose him was because of his past, the physical, mental, and sexual abuse by his father.  We also learned of Zachary's deep seated sexual desire for his mother (who he watched be murdered by his father) and deep seated hatred for her as well for leaving him in the hands of his father.  Whew!  There, I think that brings us up to date.  As always, thank you all so much for your continued reading and reviewing.

Chapter 6:  Love and Peace

As Clarice Starling-Graham stepped off the elevator on her last day of work with the FBI, the first thing she noticed was the lack of people in her department.  Puzzled, she glanced at her watch.  It was 7:45 am.  

_Where is everyone? _Clarice thought and her brow furrowed.

Suddenly realization dawned on her.  It was her last day, her coworkers and agents most likely had some "surprise" planned.  Clarice smiled bemusedly and headed toward her office.  As she drew near, Clarice could hear quiet chatter coming from behind her office door and she smiled again.

_Oh how sweet, _Clarice thought.  _I love them.  Oh I'm going to miss them so much._

For the first time in the two months since she'd made the decision to retire, Clarice had a twinge of doubt.  She wondered if she was doing the right thing.  Maybe she should stay.  But she knew now was not the time for second thoughts, it was too late to turn back now.  She would retire from the FBI and she would enjoy every minute of it.  Slowly Clarice turned the knob of her office door.

"Surprise!"  The group yelled as Clarice opened the door.

She smiled broadly and her eyes were instantly drawn to the streamers and balloons that seemed to cover every available space of her office ceiling and walls.  Then Clarice looked from face to face of everyone that was crowded into her office and she was pleasantly surprised to see her supervisor, FBI Executive Assistant Director Karl Wegener there.  Clarice smiled at him and then to each of the agents there under her charge and her friends from other departments.  Then she looked at her long time co-worker, friend and Section Chief replacement Seth Williams, then her best friend for years Ardelia Mapp-Williams, and finally Clarice's eyes fell on her husband Will Graham.

Clarice grinned broadly.  "I see they're letting just anyone in here nowadays," she laughed.

"Well you know how it is," Will smiled back.  "Once you've worked here they can never let you go."  Will moved to envelope her in a hug and whispered in her ear.  "Congratulations, Clarice.  I'm so proud of you.  I love you."

"I love you too," Clarice whispered back and pulled away.  "Thank you so much everyone," she said to the group and her eyes began to fill with tears at the sight of so many people that she cared for here to offer their love and support on her last day of work.  "I'm really going to miss you."

Ardelia hugged her friend.  "Congrats, Clarice," she said and smiled.

"Thanks Delia."  Clarice smiled back.

Next Seth embraced Clarice tightly.  "Naw," he replied when he let her go.  "You're not going to miss us.  You're gonna have too much fun changing diapers and washing clothes to miss us."

Clarice grinned.  "Well that's true Seth.  But you're just jealous."

Two hours later, after the cake had been eaten, presents opened, and well wishes given, Clarice, Will, Seth, and Ardelia sat alone in Clarice's office.  Clarice had her feet up on the desk and she stretched her arms up behind her head, looking out the window at the downtown D.C. skyline for what would probably be the last time from this office.  

"Yup," Seth said.  "You better enjoy your last feet-on-the-desk moment while you can Clarice."

Clarice looked at Seth and smiled.  "Hey partner I'm just warming the desk up for your feet okay?"

Chuckling, Ardelia looked at Clarice.  "So what are you going to do with yourself first Claire?"

"I'm going to sleep for a week," Clarice replied, folding her hands in her lap and looking content.

"Oh I'm sure Will can find you enough to do around the house to keep you busy," Ardelia smiled.

Will shook his head and looked at Clarice.  "She's earned the rest; at least for the first week.  After that she's fair game."

"Well you'll be gone for awhile after that anyway," Clarice pouted.  "So the kids and I will have to fend for ourselves without you."

"That's right," Seth said, turning to regard Will.  "You're headed to San Francisco to speak at a convention there."

"Yup," Will nodded.  "And actually then I might be off to L.A.  The police chief called this morning and is interested in my coming down to speak with his officers city-wide."

"Oh Will the kids and I could fly out there to meet you and we could all go to Disneyland," Clarice replied happily.  "Maybe we could get Josh and Michelle to go too."

Will nodded.  "Yeah that'd be fun."

A knock on the door interrupted the conversation.  One of the department secretaries, Doris Blackwell, stuck her head in.

"Clarice," Doris said quietly.  "There's a delivery for you."

"Go ahead and bring it in Doris," Clarice replied.

Smiling, Doris pushed open the door and carried in an elaborate arrangement of red and white roses.  Upon seeing the flowers, Clarice sat upright in her chair and put her feet on the floor.  She pushed an errant strand of hair out of her eyes and smiled.

"Oh my God," she gasped.  "They're so beautiful!  There must be at least three dozen!"

"I'm thinking four," Ardelia replied a bit enviously.

Doris Blackwell set the arrangement on Clarice's desk and it was so tall that Clarice could not see over it.  She laughed happily and pulled the card out from the arrangement.  Seth picked up the flowers and moved them to a side table out of the way.  Clarice opened the envelope and read the card silently.

_My dearest Clarice,_

_I'm so proud of you; you've finally found the courage to leave your beloved FBI.  Now we'll just have to work on you leaving that husband of yours.  Enjoy your roses – red for love and white for peace.  I can only hope we will have both together someday.  You're always and forever in my thoughts._

_Love,_

_Your not-so-secret admirer.___

Clarice's eyes had filled with tears as she read the note, even _he _had made sure to congratulate her on her last day.  It was type-written; most likely either called into the florist or emailed so there was no handwriting to give the sender away.  Additionally, Clarice noted that he had been overly careful to not divulge anything too personal so that the sender could not be definitively identified in case the note happened to be read by someone else.  But there was no doubt in Clarice's mind as to who the sender of the flowers were.

_My not-so-secret admirer,_ Clarice thought.  _No kidding._

"Who sent them Claire?"  Ardelia asked.  "They're beautiful."

Clarice looked up from the card and saw the other three watching her intently.  She nonchalantly pocketed the card in her dress pants pocket and quickly swiped at her eyes.  

"Oh just an old friend," Clarice smiled.  "Wishing me well on my last day."

"How sweet," Ardelia replied and smiled.

Out of the corner of her eye, Clarice noticed Will's forehead crinkle in concern at her words and she knew that he knew who had sent them.  Will shook his head slightly and turned to gaze out the window but no one else seemed to notice his discontent.  Ardelia stood up carefully from her chair, a difficult task for a seven-month pregnant woman.

"Well," Ardelia said quietly, rubbing her round stomach.  "We'd better be going.  I've got a doctor's appointment.  Congratulations again Clarice."  

Clarice stood up and embraced her friend tightly.  "Thank you so much for coming," she whispered.

"You know I wouldn't have missed it Claire," Ardelia smiled.

Will stood up as well.  "Yeah, I've got to get going too," he said simply.

He moved to where Clarice stood and kissed her lightly.  He smiled at her slightly and Clarice saw it was pained.  As he turned to go, she squeezed his shoulder gently.

"I love you," Clarice said softly.

"I love you too Claire," Will replied and squeezed her hand gently.  "I'll see you at home."

Clarice nodded and Seth stood to escort the two visitors back down to the lobby of the building.

"I'll be back in a bit Clarice," Seth said.  

"Okay," Clarice called absently as the trio walked out the door, closing it behind them.

Clarice sat down heavily in her chair and looked around her office.  All of her certificates, medals, and pictures had been removed earlier in the week.  However because of all the streamers and balloons the office hardly looked bare.  But Clarice saw none of it.  Her mind was far away going over the words of the note that had accompanied the gorgeous arrangement.  

_'Now we'll just have to work on you leaving that husband of yours.'  _Clarice mused.  _So he still hasn't given up on the hope that he and I might one day have a future together._

Clarice willed her mind to stop there, to not think the next phrase from his note that popped suddenly into her head, but she could not.

_'You're always and forever in my thoughts.'  _

Clarice sighed.  It had been years since she'd seen Dr. Hannibal Lecter and she had not allowed herself to dwell on thoughts of him since then.  Of course her mind attempted to bring him up several times a day but she always managed to push the thoughts back down and concentrate on other things.  Now, however, knowing he was out there somewhere still thinking of her, still longing for her brought a slight smile to her lips.  After all, absence makes the heart grow fonder.

Later that evening, Clarice walked into the master bedroom after having tucked Serena and John into bed for the night.  She found Will in the bathroom brushing his teeth and she stood in the doorway watching him for a moment.  He had already changed into a pair of blue flannel pajamas and a loose fitting white tank top for bed.  Clarice moved to stand behind him and ran her hands slowly up and down his back underneath his shirt.

"How was your day," Clarice asked quietly.

Will shrugged and took the toothbrush out of his mouth for a moment.  "Oh you know, the usual.  Cleaning, laundry, grocery shopping, dishes, chasing after the kids."

Clarice could tell from Will's tone of voice that he was not happy about something.  And she knew what that something was; he was still bothered by the flowers that Hannibal Lecter had sent her.  Will had been very patient and hadn't said anything about them to her all evening.  She decided now was not the time to bring it up.

"I'm glad I'll get to be home more now.  I can't wait to spend more time with the kids," Clarice said and laid her head gently on his back.  "And you."

Will rinsed out his mouth and stood up briskly, causing Clarice to have to straighten up as well.  He wiped off his mouth and hands, set the towel down on the counter, and stood looking at her reflection in the mirror.  For a moment neither of them said anything.

Clarice returned his gaze for a moment before it flicked down to his left hand and the missing pinky finger there and guilt flooded her.  She looked back up at him.  "I love you Will," she said softly.

"I think you've told me that about fifty times today Clarice," Will replied quietly.  He ran his hand through his hair, sighing.  "Why do you feel the need to say it so much today?"

"Because it's true," Clarice said simply.

"I see," Will said shortly.  "Well I love you too."

Will turned and walked past her out of the bathroom.  Clarice closed her eyes and hung her head for a moment.  They both knew what hung in the air unsaid between them, the fact that Dr. Hannibal Lecter had sent her an extravagant arrangement of flowers and the fact that Clarice had yet to share the note from him with Will.  But neither Clarice nor Will seemed to want to bring that out into the open.  Instead they tip-toed around the subject and went through the motions of everyday life, albeit strained.

Clarice opened her eyes, sighed, and began to strip off her clothes.  Once she'd put on pajamas, washed her face, and brushed her teeth, she walked into the bedroom and found the lights already off and Will rolled over, eyes closed, facing the wall away from her.  Clarice sighed again and walked to her side of the bed.  She snuggled in under the covers and stared up at the ceiling for a moment.

"Why are you angry at me Will?"  Clarice asked quietly into the dark.

"I'm not angry at you," Will replied without rolling over.

Clarice turned over onto her side to face Will's back.  "Please roll over," she whispered.  "We need to talk."

"We don't need to talk Clarice," Will said.  "Because I know what you're going to say."

"Really?  What am I going to say?"  Clarice asked.

Finally Will rolled over to face her.  "You're going to say that it means nothing that today you received flowers from _him_."

"Well it doesn't mean anything," Clarice said gently.

Will sighed.  "It means something to me," he said quietly.

"What does it mean to you?"  Clarice reached out to gently stroke Will's face but he pulled away.

"You really have to ask me that Clarice?"  Will spat out.  Suddenly angry, he sat up on the edge of the bed and turned on the bedside lamp.  He looked at her.

"It hurts Clarice," Will said harshly.  "Another man is sending my wife flowers.  But not just any man, no, a man who attempted to kill me and my son in order to have you.  and that bothers me.  Okay?  Is that good enough for you?  Am I emasculated enough for you now?"

Clarice sat up.  "Emasculated?  What are you talking about Will?"

Will shook his head.  "Nothing.  Look just forget it okay?"  He got up and walked out of the room.

Clarice watched him go and sighed.

_Boy this is bothering him more than I thought it would._  She thought and shook her head.  _Dammit__ why won't he talk to me?_

Clarice and Will had rarely argued in the years that they had known each other.  Even when they had been partners in the FBI they had hardly ever argued.  They had always communicated well with one another and talked things out when they had disagreements.  This was the first time that Will had ever shut her out and not talked to her.  Clarice was confused and unsure if she should pursue the matter or not.  Finally she decided that she could not leave this until tomorrow, they needed to hash it out now.

Clarice stood up and left their bedroom.  She walked down the stairs in search of Will.  He was not in the living room, he was not in the study, he was not in the laundry room, he was not in the dining room, and he was not in the kitchen.

_Where the hell did he go?_  Clarice asked herself and her brow furrowed.

She knew he had not left the house because she had not heard the garage door open or either of the cars being started.  Clarice peeked out the back door and saw him sitting on the back porch swing staring out across the expansive yard littered with toys.

Will did not even turn to face her when the screen door hinges creaked as she came outside.

"I've gotta remember to oil those," he said quietly, continuing to stare across the yard.

"Will talk to me please," Clarice said as she sat next to him on the swing.   "What's wrong?"

It was early fall but the chill that had already crept into the air made Clarice shiver in her thin pajamas and she wrapped her arms around herself wishing she had brought out a sweater.  Will noticed her shiver and took off his New York Yankees sweatshirt that he had pulled on as he had headed outside.  Without looking at her he handed it to her and she smiled.  It was such a Will thing to do; even though they were arguing he was still chivalrous when it came to her physical comfort.

"Thank you," Clarice replied quietly.

Will nodded once and rested his elbows on his knees with his head on his hands.  Clarice pulled the sweatshirt on and it engulfed her tiny frame but she was grateful for its warmth.  She reached out tentatively and put her left hand on Will's bent back.  They sat there for a few moments in silence like that.

"Clarice," Will finally said, "I'm sorry for my outburst upstairs.  It was wrong of me to turn on you like that."

"It's alright Will," Clarice said quietly, continuing to rub his back until he sat up and looked at her.

"I can't keep doing this Claire," Will replied.  "It's driving me crazy wondering when he's going to thrust himself back into our lives again."  He paused.  "And I know in my heart that another confrontation with Hannibal Lecter would kill me."

"Will," Clarice said, "He's not coming back into our lives I promise you."

"How can you promise me that?"  Will asked.  "How can you promise Serena or John or even yourself that?  I love you so much but as long as he is alive we can never live a normal life.  He will always be there like a bad habit or a family skeleton in the closet.  As long as he lives we will never be fully rid of him.  And I can't live like that.  I thought we could try but it's not working Claire."

Clarice took Will's hand in hers and squeezed it tightly.  She looked intently into his eyes.

"He made promises to me Will……"

"He's made bullshit promises before Claire," Will protested.  "He never keeps them."

Clarice shook her head.  "You were not there Will," she said firmly.  "You did not see his face or hear his voice.  I believe him.  He will not bother us again."

Will looked at her incredulously.  "I can't believe we're going through this again.  You're taking his side.  Again."  He shook his head angrily and pulled his hand out of hers.

"Will there is no _side _to take," Clarice replied quietly.  "I'm merely stating what I believe.  He said to me on our wedding day, 'I promise that I will not call upon you ever again, Clarice, except upon your request.  And as long as Will is good to you, I will not call upon him either, you have my word.'  I know he meant it Will."

"Wait, wait, wait," Will said, holding up his hands and turning to look at her.  "Upon your request?  And how exactly would you request his help Clarice?"

Clarice closed her eyes for a brief moment and took a deep breath.  She knew she had just made a terrible slip.  She had never told Will of Dr. Lecter's final visit to her in the hospital after the birth of her and Will's daughter.  She had never told him of the instructions Dr. Lecter had given her with regards to contacting him should she ever need to.  Clarice steeled herself for her husband's justified anger.

"Will I love you so much," Clarice began.

"Oh dammit Clarice," Will said quietly and stood up from the swing.  He stood for a moment with his hands on his hips looking up at the sky.  "There's more you haven't told me isn't there?"  He asked quietly.  "Much more."

"I'm sorry," Clarice blurted out.  "I was only trying to protect you.  I knew how hurt and upset you'd be."

"Tell me Clarice," Will said quietly and he turned to look at her.

Clarice took a deep breath and began.  "Lecter came to visit me in the hospital after Serena was born….."

"Goddammit," Will hissed under his breath and shook his head.

"And he said that if I ever needed to reach him to place a personal ad in the _Times, _the_ International Herald-Tribune, and the__ China Mail to A. A. Aaron from Hannah__," Clarice said.  "But you must know that I never have Will.  I have never contacted him."_

"And the flowers today," Will asked, "is the first time you've heard from him since?"

"Yes."

Will sighed and ran his hand through his hair.  "And what did he have to say today?"

"Just that he is proud of me for finally leaving the Bureau," Clarice responded.  She decided it would be best to leave out the part about Lecter hoping she would leave Will as well soon.

"You should have told me about his hospital visit to you right after it happened.  I can't believe you've been keeping this from me all these years," Will said angrily.

"I'm sorry Will.  It's just that I know how insecure you are when it comes to Dr. Lecter….." Clarice trailed off.

"Insecure?"  Will asked incredulously.  "I'm not insecure I'm fucking terrified.  Clarice, my God, you know what I've been through at the hands of that monster.  And you know better than most what he's capable of," he sighed.  "But you don't see him that way.  You see him as a sort of mentor, a father figure."

"I know he's dangerous Will, that's one thing I've always been sure of with Dr. Lecter," Clarice said quietly.  "But I do not see him as a threat to us.  I told him on our wedding day that if he really loved me he would leave us alone.  And he promised he would."  Clarice stood up and moved to where Will stood.  She put her arms around his neck.  "I love you Will.  You are my husband, you are my lover, you are my best friend, and you are the father of my children.  I would never willingly do anything to jeopardize our family.  I would never put any of you in danger."

"I know that Clarice," Will replied and put his arms around her waist.  "But you should have told me."

"I know, and I'm sorry," Clarice said.  "Can you forgive me?"

"We haven't solved anything tonight Claire," Will said quietly.  "I still don't believe him and you've damaged our bond of trust by keeping things from me."

Clarice stood up on her tip toes and pulled Will's face down to meet hers.  She kissed him long and hard.

"I know," Clarice said softly.  "But let's call a truce for tonight huh?"

"Fine," Will replied.  "But we'll continue talking about this tomorrow."

Clarice nodded.  Will kissed her and ran his ice cold hands up underneath the sweatshirt and up her back, making her shiver with delight.  Then she led him back into the warmth of the house.

To be continued.  Please review!


	7. Chapter 7: Love and War

I cannot believe that it's been over a year since I last posted on this story. I went through some weird things. But I'm trying to come back now and finish my stories! I hope I haven't lost all my faithful readers. Anyway, since its been more than a year, here's a summary of what's going on in the story (this summary is taken from the beginning of chappie 6!): Dr. Lecter is currently living in Spain with a fiery Spanish tart named Aurora who has just turned up pregnant. Clarice and Will are living a happy married life with two kids in the suburbs of Bethesda, Maryland and Clarice is retiring as section chief of the formerly named Behavioral Science division. Oh yes, Zachary Matthews we have come to find out is going to be released from his mental hospital and we learned that his psychotic tendencies and why the Good Doctor chose him was because of his past, the physical, mental, and sexual abuse by his father. We also learned of Zachary's deep seated sexual desire for his mother (who he watched be murdered by his father) and deep seated hatred for her as well for leaving him in the hands of his father. Also we find that the Good Doctor wishes Clarice well on her retirement day and Will feels threatened. He and Clarice argue over Lecter's shadow over their lives. Whew! There, I think that brings us up to date. As always, thank you all so much for your continued reading and reviewing. And the next chapter will NOT be a year in the making!

Chapter 7: Love and War

Clarice woke up late the next morning to a quiet house. Blinking the sleep from her eyes, she slowly rolled over in bed and placed her hand gently onto the space where Will should have been. She squinted in the bright light that filtered into the room from behind the blinds on the window and saw that Will was already up and out of bed. Clarice rolled over onto her back and placed her arm over her eyes. She sighed deeply. Her first day of retirement and she had hoped to wake up in her husband's arms. But their fight about Hannibal the night before had left a widening distance between them.

Clarice was not overly surprised by the fact that Will was not in bed but she was surprised that she had yet to hear any noise from within the house. She lifted the arm from her eyes and glanced at the clock: twenty minutes after ten am. Both Serena and John would have awakened hours ago, Clarice knew, and begun their daily whirlwind of activity. Even through the heavy closed bedroom door, she would be able to hear them. Clarice strained her ears but was met with only silence; the kind of silence that causes your ears to ring.

She sighed once more and swung her legs out of bed. Clarice stood up and padded to the door, opening it. She stuck her head out the door and listened again. Still nothing. Puzzled, Clarice turned and walked down the hallway toward the stairs. She loped quickly down the stairs and began to explore the house in search of her family. One of the first rooms she checked was the kitchen; she and Will often left notes for each other on the small dry erase board hanging from the refrigerator. Clarice figured maybe he had taken the kids out. As she walked into the kitchen, she spied Will sitting at the table, his head bent over a manila file folder full of newspaper clippings on Dr. Lecter that she had collected over the years. Clarice had kept the folder locked in her desk at work and had of course brought it home with her last night when she had cleaned out her desk. She had dropped the box with her personal belongings from work next to the door in the kitchen that led to the garage as she had walked through it the night before. A sudden rush of anger flooded through her at the realization that her husband had gone through her personal affects. Will did not look up as she walked in although he knew she was there. Clarice watched him quietly until she had her anger under control. She walked over and leaned up against the kitchen counter across from the table, her arms crossed over her chest defiantly.

"Finding anything of interest?" Clarice finally whispered.

Will looked up and levelly met her gaze. "Only that my wife has an obsession with a madman."

Clarice bit her tongue and swallowed a biting comment. She was determined to not fight with him.

"Will, where are the children?"

"I sent them to the zoo with the nanny," he paused. "We need some time alone."

Clarice smiled thinly. "I agree."

"To talk," Will finished.

"Yes, you wanted to finish our argument from last night," Clarice sighed and ran a hand through her long hair as she often did when frustrated or worried. "Will, I don't want to fight."

"I don't want to fight either, Clarice, but I have come to a decision that you need to hear," Will replied quietly.

Clarice sucked in her breath. He had reached a decision? What did that mean? Was he leaving her? Sudden painful tears sprung to her eyes but she blinked them away, determined not to cry. Will saw her fear and anxiety and wanted desperately to go to her and take her in his arms but he couldn't. He couldn't until he had said what he needed to say.

"I have been up most of the night rehashing all of our arguments over him and debating what we should do. I thought I had finally come to the conclusion that I would trust your decision that he was out of our lives for good. But then I found this," Will gestured to the manila file. "And it became clear to me that while he might be out of _our_ lives, he is not now nor every will be out of _your_ life." He paused and waited for her to meet his gaze. "And I cannot live with that."

Clarice bit her bottom lip. "Will, there is nothing going on between Lecter and I. You must believe that. Those clippings were collected over the years when I was trying to catch him. That's all, I promise."

"Then why do you still have them?" Will asked quietly.

"I don't know," she shook her head slowly. "I guess I just haven't got around to throwing them away yet."

Will hung his head briefly for a moment, exasperated. He sighed. "I cannot keep having these discussions with you Clarice." He looked up at her. "It is clear that as long as he is alive he will be a constant shadow over your life."

Clarice nodded slowly, tears now beginning to spill down her cheeks. "I suppose so."

Neither of them spoke for a few moments, each afraid to voice their thoughts. Finally Clarice broke the silence.

"So what does this mean?" She asked quietly, fearfully.

After a moment, Will looked at her. "It means that I must leave you……or kill him."

Clarice could not believe the words she had just heard from her husband's mouth. Her husband going up against Dr. Lecter and killing him? She glanced quickly at his missing pinky finger and the small round scars in the center of his palms and wrists from his crucifixion. Then she thought of the long jagged scar on his lower left abdomen. Lecter had nearly killed Will. Twice. And here was Will, talking about killing _him_? She was speechless.

Will shook his head. "Neither choice is a good one. Neither choice leaves me feeling very happy. Honestly, both choices scare me to death."

With her hand lightly covering her mouth in disbelief and tears streaming down her face freely now, Clarice sighed shakily. She looked at him. "I cannot lose you Will. I love you. I need you. I want you."

Will rose quickly and went to her finally. He took her in her arms and kissed the top of her head as his own tears began to fall into her hair.

"Then I guess the decision is made." He said hoarsely. "I love you too."

Clarice began to sob helplessly into his chest.


End file.
